My Conversation with Death; or how I learned to live life more fully
“I’m not afraid of death; I just don’t want to be there when it happens.” Woody Allen
“Where I am, death is not; where Death is, I am not.” Epicurus
Our Fear of Death
It’s easy to say you’re not afraid of death when you’re young . . . and healthy. And unless you happen to be in a Woody Allen movie, no one is likely to ask you if you are afraid of death. No one is likely to talk about death at all.
Of course, avoiding the subject of death has been difficult during the COVID pandemic. Too many of us know someone — or know someone who knows someone — who has died. But whether you do or not, death will inevitably become a topic of conversation in your life, especially after the age of sixty. Since then, I’ve lost five of my best friends. Both my parents are gone as are nearly all my elderly relatives. At 65, I was aware that I was the elder in the family. I could see myself on the proverbial belt moving toward oblivion.
If I wasn’t afraid of death when I started writing, I am now.
Or, more precisely, I’m not so afraid of death as I am of dying, which is to say, I’m afraid, or anxious, of both.
Am I normal?
According to the research I’ve done, the fear of death is a normal human emotion. Fear of death is a reasonable fear — it can help keep us alive. Imagine our ancestors with no fear of death at all. “Oh, there’s one of those nasty sabre-toothed tigers. I’m not afraid. I’ll just . . .” Ooops. There goes Uncle Zog and along with him a whole line of potential offspring.
Joking aside, it makes sense to be anxious or fearful of death and dying. But it’s when that anxiety interferes with our enjoyment of life that there’s a problem. That kind of anxiety is known as thanatophobia. But before you announce to your book club that you have this ailment, you should know that the American Psychiatric Association does not recognize thanatophobia as a mental disorder. Instead, it acknowledges the anxiety that results from it, recommending psychotherapy and learning to refocus the fears. So instead of exploring the root causes of the fear, the practitioner addresses the symptoms including heightened anxiety, panic attacks, dizziness, heart palpitations, and nausea among others.
Research also suggests that the fear of death peaks in men and women in their 20s with a secondary spike occurring in women during their 50s. Does this research suggest that older folk are immune from the fear of death? Not exactly. Older people tend to fear dying or living an unfulfilled life or feeling like they’re a burden on their family. The imminent death of a parent can often trigger fear of death in their children. This is often why older people often find it difficult to talk with their children about death. They don’t want to upset them.
Talking About Death
But talking openly about death and dying is exactly how we overcome or, at least, mitigate the fear and anxiety. Yet many families do not broach the subject. I’ve always found it ironic that having grown up in the 50s and 60s when the fear of death was heightened by the Cold War and the fear of nuclear war, neither my parents nor my teachers addressed what must have been on everyone’s mind — death! It was certainly on mine every time the fire alarm went off at school and we had to hide under our desks. How was that going to protect me from the nuclear blast or the fallout? If adults were afraid to talk about death, it must be a very scary subject after all. No wonder I grew up with that heightened anxiety.
It wasn’t until I began talking more openly about death that I began to overcome my fear. While becoming a mental health counsellor in my 20s taught me the benefits of talking openly and honestly, the turning point came in 2016 at the age of 64. I was sitting in a pub enjoying some local singers from my village in Scotland when a friend tapped me on the shoulder and asked if I wanted to go to a “Deaf Cafe”. Having had an interest in learning sign language, I agreed. Imagine my surprise when I walked into a small room to find about a dozen people sitting around a table drinking tea and eating cake and . . . talking about DEATH! This was a “death cafe” and had nothing to do with the hard of hearing (my own mishearing excepted).
What surprised me was the candid nature of the conversation. Here were adults from 20 to 90 all talking about death. There was no particular agenda just an opportunity to share my thoughts and feelings about a subject that had been taboo and off the table for much of my life. And here it was on the table with tea and cake.
It turns out that Death Cafés are a thing and have been for nearly 20 years. They began as an idea in the mind of a Swiss sociologist and have become a web of social franchises throughout nearly 70 countries. The key to their success is their simplicity — all you need is a venue, tea and cake, and a willingness to talk openly about death and dying. There’s no hidden agenda. And no cost. If only I hadn’t had to wait until retirement age to join in this kind of conversation.
But it’s never too late, right?
It was at this particular Death Café that I met Jane Duncan Rogers, the woman who would go on to found Before I Go Solutions (BIGS), one of the fastest-growing community initiatives providing education, resources, and training in end-of-life planning. In five years, BIGS has educated and trained hundreds — mostly women — in supporting clients to get their affairs in order before they die (www.beforeigosolutions.com). That includes legal documents like wills and powers-of-attorney, funeral plans, Advance Care plans, plans to clear their digital presence, legacy projects and more. Jane’s mission is to make end-of-life plans as commonplace as birth plans. The first step is to provide a safe space to open up the conversation around death and dying.
My Conversation with the Grim Reaper
The candid conversation that day and the subsequent discussions I had at Jane’s workshops started me on a path. An important step was to visualize me stopping and turning around to face Death. In my imagination, Death was the traditional hooded figure carrying a scythe. I imagined the conversation we would have. To my surprise, Death was not as frightening a figure as I had imagined, although he did have a rather macabre sense of humour. He (yes he was a he in my mind) was just doing his job, he explained, cleaning up the world so that it didn’t get too overpopulated. It was a thankless task, he moaned, made worse by increasing life spans. Still, he said, pandemics, war, and climate change would keep him busy for a long time. He also took heart in the fact that life expectancy had dropped in the United States from 80 to 76 years. Who knew that my version of Death would have such a keen interest in statistics and percentages?
All in all, my conversation with Death went pretty well that day. We parted with a better understanding of one another. And I came away feeling less afraid, less anxious. I agreed to converse with Death more regularly. I also went on to train with Jane and Before I Go Solutions and have become their freelance Head Facilitator. So, I have a lot of conversations about death every week. I provide people with a space to talk about their fears and anxieties and acquire the training to help others put their own — and their clients’ — fears and earthly affairs in order before it’s too late.
My conversations with Death have taught me some useful ideas. Death reminded me that his work is relatively quick and painless. I come, he said, and it’s over. It’s dying that frightens most people. That’s the fault of disease and the body’s natural decline due to wear and tear. However, he reassured me, your body knows how to die, it’s natural. While advances in medicine can help humans hold onto life a little longer, there comes a time when it makes sense to let go. Doctors, he went on, don’t always understand that. They see death as a failure. There should be no shame or guilt about dying, Death told me. Of course, he went on, doctors and nurses can help with pain management to make the whole process more manageable . . . and meaningful.
Meaningful? I ask.
Death explained that most people at some point during the dying process reflect on the meaning of their life. Was it worthwhile? Did I love enough? Was I loved? Did I make a difference? That’s where talking and being open about death can be such a big help, he explained. Those are important questions and they can be addressed while you’re in a more positive frame of mind. You can ask your family and friends. “Give me the roses while I live,” the Grim Reaper sang. A well-lived life makes for a well-lived death.
For those not convinced by Death’s platitudes, there is research to suggest that our fear of death is not particularly healthy nor helpful. Clinical health psychologist Jade Wu reports that a 2016 study found that the “fear of death could amplify our desire for revenge and political violence.” When researchers asked Palestinian, Israeli, and South Korean participants to think about personal pain or death, those that thought more about death were more likely to choose military action as a way of solving political conflict.
Wu cites another study that found the fear of death prevents the processing of grief. This has implications for those caring for the dying and anyone dealing with grief in the wake of a loved one’s death. The fear of death can hamper our ability to talk openly and honestly about our feelings thus delaying the effects of grief on our bodies and minds.
Alleviating the Fear of Death
So what can we do about our fear of death? How do we alleviate it? Is there anything to be done besides talking about it?
Talking openly about death is certainly an important first step. But there are two other important actions one can take to alleviate the fear. Firstly, you can help others, younger people in particular. Encouraging older people to take up ways of serving the younger generation can promote a sense of well-being and purpose. The more one feels they are living a purposeful life, the less anxious one feels about death. Volunteering with a youth organization, tutoring and mentoring are all ways of accomplishing this.
And secondly, find ways to nourish a meaningful life. Identify your values and then ask yourself, “Am I living a life according to my values?” If you identify creativity as an important life value, for example, are you living a creative life? If not, is there a way you can inject some creativity into your life? Write that memoir you’ve always wanted to write; take those salsa lessons you’ve thought about; pick up your camera and take yourself out on a photo safari in your local neighbourhood, park, or conservation area.
And remember Mark Twain’s sage advice: “The fear of death follows from the fear of life. A man who lives fully is prepared to die at any time.”
Michael Williams is a licensed End-of-Life Planning Facilitator & Trainer. He helps people talk openly about death, dying, and grief. He also supports people getting their “ducks in a row”, including wills and powers-of-attorney, funeral plans, Advance Care plans, legacies, digital asset cleaning, and more. If you want to talk to Michael about your fear of death or learn more about his end-of-life planning work, book a no-obligation 30-minute appointment at https://www.myendoflifeplan.ca/book-a-session.
